Fullmetal Alchemist: The Sapphire Assassin
by Delta-Eko-Foxtrot
Summary: Erik Romanov, a talented alchemist with a tortured and conflicted past, is contracted into killing another alchemist named Edward Elric. However, he soon learns that this is no ordinary assignment.
1. Prologue: Sorry, I have to kill you

_Why?_

That's the only thought Erik Romanov could ask himself as he looked from his corner, hopelessly, across the bustling tavern. Of all that was going on in that crowded room, Eric only had care enough for one lingering thought, one which had plagued him for so long. It was the simple question, _why?_

_Why am I sitting here?_

Through the crowds of heathens and whores, gamblers and drunkards, rejects and freaks, Erik was searching. Not for someone, but for something. It wasn't a tangible thing, no physical object. It was the answer to his question.

_Why have I been punished?_

Ever since his childhood, Erik had come to question the order of the world and everything beyond it. He couldn't accept its flaws, he couldn't accept his own. He had no understanding of sin or virtue anymore, for over the years, the definition of each had become indistinguishable.

_Why did you take them from me?_

Erik had been misguided. He had been wronged. He had been punished.

"Hey, buddy!" hollered a voice.

He had been angered.

"Get the hell up! This table's reserved!" The owner of this voice slammed his fists down on the table.

Erik quickly snapped from his introspection. He had drooped over the table, slouching. His mind had wandered and he had not realized that a man and his posse had been waiting impatiently for Erik to move. Through the dimly illuminated and smoky room, he noticed looks of absolute evil on these men. It appeared their patience had worn thin.

"If you value any aspect of your life, you'll get up right now!" the man yelled.

"My apologies, sir, I didn't realize there was a reservation on this table," Erik said politely, standing up from the table.

The man laughed at him. "It ain't reserved, people just know damn well not to sit here. And a real class act we have here! 'My apologies, sir!' Where the hell do you come off talkin' like that?"

"I'm sorry, it was not my intention to anger you," said Erik. He was completely out of the way of the table and he could've easily avoided confrontation with the man.

"Hold up there, bud! Where you goin' in such a hurry? Got a hot date?" said the man, jeering. "Or are ya scared of me? I ain't never seen someone walk away so quickly!"

Erik slowed his pace so he could listen to the man make a fool of himself. It was amusing to him, how righteous people would act, despite any apparent goodness within them. Suddenly, a man stepped in front of him, pushing Erik to the ground. Everyone in the room was now looking at Erik and this man. It was clear that Erik was not going to get out of the tavern without difficulty.

"He says he ain't from here! Says he didn't know there was a reservation on my table!" shouted the man.

The room exploded in laughter. They knew what was coming.

"I didn't know being a stranger was such a sin," quipped Erik. The tavern fell silent.

The man glared at Erik. "What you say, punk?"

Erik smiled. He looked right into the man's eyes. To any other person, this man – six feet tall, a brooding physique, angry face – would be an exemplary person with whom to avoid conflict. But not to Erik.

"I said, 'I didn't know being a stranger was such a sin'."

There was absolute silence. It was clear that this man did not appreciate Erik's candor in the least bit.

"A real joker! You're hilarious, man!" He laughed, sarcastically. The man stepped towards Erik, clearly fed up. "Well, if ya feel so comfortable in your skin already, hows abouts we give you a nice warm Rablyska welcome?"

Erik sighed.

His opponent did not approve.

"That's it!" He lunged towards Erik, grabbing him by the collar, then quickly throttling his neck, squeezing with all his strength. He lifted Erik off the ground using all of his strength. "Any last words, bud?" he said, seething.

Erik rolled his eyes.

"Hah! I'll see you in Hell, punk!" The man was about ready to break Erik's neck.

"I've already been to Hell."

Erik kicked the man, hard in the ribs. It sent him flying, back into his "reserved" table. Beer bottles and silverware flew everywhere as the table fell onto its side. The bar was nearly silent, though gasps and some reluctant laughs broke the calm.

As he started on his way out of the tavern, Erik looked into the faces of each of the witnesses of the event. They were in shear disbelief by the scene they had just witnessed. Surely they were curious as to who he was. No one had ever stood up to that man like that – they were all terrified of him. And here was this tourist, this stranger who had so fearlessly defended himself from the bully.

"Get back here, ya punk!" said an irritated and shaky voice from behind.

Erik turned around to see that the man was now running after him – with a knife in hand.

Thinking quickly, Erik lunged back at the man. In a split second, he had to formulate his attack.

_Let's see. It seems like floor this tavern is pure earth. Let's hope it is._

Moments away from tackling the man, Erik quick dropped into a slide, kicking the man's feet out from underneath him. As the man flew overhead of and behind him, Erik quickly got to his knees, clapping his hands and pressing them to the ground. It was such a fluid motion, and so much had happened in such a short time. A light began to appear from Erik's area and the ground shook slightly. From the ground, he pulled something absolutely amazing. He drew a sword – a perfectly crafted sword. And if it wasn't odd enough, there was a very distinguishing quality of this weapon.

It was a blue sword.

It was a beautiful weapon, something not of this world. Glassy and resilient, it was perfect in almost every way. With a hilt of what appeared to be gold and a perfectly crafted shape, it would send any common thief mad with avarice. It was about four feet long, but not much wider than a couple of inches. In the hands of an experienced warrior, it would be the perfect killing machine. Never had something so dangerous been so captivating and lovely.

The room was absolutely shocked, almost horrified by this display. How on earth had Erik just pulled a sword from the ground? A blue sword?

"It's sapphire," announced Erik as he pressed the tip of the sword into the man's neck. "It's a precious gem. When crafted correctly, a precious gem can be sharper than any metal you'll ever come to wield." He tightened his grip. "Sometimes, my creations are faulty, but that's very rare. Are you willing to take your chances against me? Are you willing to attack me when I'm not looking again? Next time, I won't hesitate to kill you, and I have yet to show you all of which I'm capable. And frankly, you don't want to see that."

The room was silent. They wanted nothing to do with him.

Erik's voice was commanding and intimidating, but ultimately stoic. It had an almost angelic quality to it, like a sound you wanted to hear but at the same time feared. His voice held wisdom, though he didn't seem much older than twenty, and perhaps not even that old. There was something unique about this boy. Something terrifying. And something beautiful.

He shifted his weight forward a little, sending the man cowering away, behind one of his friends, who was equally terrified. Erik saw the impression he had made on the room and noticed that it was time for him to leave.

It was an odd thing that had just happened. Erik was a beautiful person. He was rather small, not much above five feet in height, but not to his disadvantage. With short blond hair and piercing green eyes, a face and smile to cause any faithful girl problems, a perfect athletic build and the voice of an angel, he seemed like the most unlikely candidate for one to pull weapons on other people and to demonstrate an alarming knowledge of how to use one.

He began on his way out of the tavern. All eyes were on him. Everyone was hoping for him to leave immediately, but at the same time, for some unexplainable reason, they hoped he would stay. Noticing the impression he had made, he paused.

"Forget what you've seen today," he said, almost as if he was warning the crowd. "You may be fascinated by the things I can do, but I assure you there is no glory in my acts. If there's any saint in this room –" (he turned around quickly to make sure he had the attention of everyone) " – it certainly isn't me."

Still holding the sword, he exited the tavern into the cold and frigid streets of Rablyska, gently closing the door behind him.

It was just about midnight in the city, so no one was around to see him with the sword.

"Well, it's time to give you back to the earth," he said, dropping it to the ground. He clapped his hands together and pressed them onto the sword, breaking it apart as it melded with the earth once more.

It had just begun snowing and it was the beginning of winter there. Winter was typically harsh in Rabylska, due to its location in an extreme northern environment, and Erik was beginning to feel that. Reminded only by the lack of life and light in the dimly lit streets of the city, he realized that the comfort of the tavern was not something he should've left so quickly.

"Dammit, look what you've done to me," he said, holding his hands in front of him. "Well, I might as well make you useful while you're not getting me into trouble."

He clasped his hands together, rubbing them vigorously, and then massaging his arms to maintain heat.

"Do all cute boys who pull weapons from the ground talk to their hands?" said a sweet voice from behind Erik.

Startled, he jumped forward a little. He turned around to see a girl his age standing there.

"Don't scare me like that."

"Scare you? I think I'm the one who should be scared after what you just pulled off in the tavern!"

He laughed. "My bad. I guess you've got a point. My apologies."

She looked at him oddly. "Why are you so polite and proper? After that display, I'd expect you to punch me for talking back." She was hardly serious.

"Y'know, I was hoping that my closing statement would discourage anyone from following me." He analyzed the girl, noticing how seemingly innocent she was. Her eyes were brown, as was her hair, and it blew almost seductively in the nighttime chill. She had left her coat in the bar, as she was in a hurry to talk to Erik, and now she was beginning to regret that decision.

"Listen, I'm freezing my butt off here, so let's cut the chat, okay? I have a proposition for you – "

"Whoa, hold up there. I don't know who you think I am, but I'm not that kind of guy."

She laughed at him. "Please, what kind of girl do you take me for? You're cute, hun, but I earn my living in a different way."

"My bad," said Erik, feeling embarrassed. "You were saying?"

"Yeah. I'm guessing a guy – or should I say boy? – like you doesn't have many friends here in Rablyska. And there aren't that many quality hotels around here, so I'd pity you if you had to stay in one. So, handsome, why don't you come home with me?"

"Not that kind of girl, huh?" He smirked.

"Hun, enough with the whore jokes, alright? You wouldn't be staying there for free. And maybe you'd even get a reward yourself."

"I guess this is your proposition."

She nodded.

Then, Erik Romanov heard something he really wished he hadn't heard.

"What do you think of being a man-for-hire?"

Shocked, Erik stepped back to retaliate, but within seconds, he was on the receiving end of a handgun.

_She's fast_.

"Any answer but 'yes' and you're dead."

"I guess I don't have an option." Erik signaled her to relax, that he wasn't going to fight back. "Why me? What makes you think I'm the right material?"

"I know what it is you do for a living. You're an alchemist, hun. And that's what we're looking for. Look, I'm not answering any questions right now, not here in the open. Someone could be listening." She took out a piece of paper. "Hold out your hand."

He obeyed, and with a surprising will to do so.

She placed a small piece of folded paper into his hands. "Go here, hun. I'll be there soon, I just need to get some things in the bar. You won't have to wait long." She winked.

Erik took the paper and opened it. It revealed an address written in pretty handwriting. There was a playful little heart drawn on the paper, perhaps a tendency or an attempt to flirt.

As she began to walk back towards the tavern, she paused momentarily. "You agreed without much a fight. Why is that so? Pretty boys aren't so eager to kill for money."

Erik had his reasons. But he wasn't about to tell some stranger his life story.

"A name. You have one?" he asked, rather politely.

She smiled. "Hannah. And you?"

"Erik."

"Nice to meet you, Erik." She winked. Then, she asked one final question. "Hun, is it true what you said about sapphire – that it can be stronger than metal?"

He nodded. "Why?"

"No reason. Burn that paper, will ya, hun?"

She turned around and continued back into the noisy tavern.

There Erik stood, soaking in what had just happened. It wasn't every day he signed up to kill people. And he, too, was surprised with what ease he accepted the offer.

_I guess I'm just hoping this gets me closer._

He looked at the paper again, to check the address one more time, but he noticed something under a fold he had not corrected. There was more writing. It was a name: Edward Elric.

Erik knew what this was.

"Sorry, Edward. Looks like I have to kill you."


	2. Forgive me, for I have sinned

Erik stepped into the vestibule of the church, and within an instant, he felt the relief which his faith had always promised him. For the first time in a long time, he could breathe.

It was early in the morning. He had gotten up early, just to visit the church. There was something on his conscience that he needed to clear. He couldn't sleep, he couldn't eat. He could barely live without feeling guilty. It needed to stop so that he could get back to his life as usual.

He wasn't used to being in the church that early in the morning. The sun had just risen and the birds had barely begun to sound. But the doors of the church were always open, and there was always someone willing to offer counsel or a place to stay. The church was the center of life in that city, or at least Erik saw it that way.

It was a beautiful building to experience. It was temple worthy of the reverence it represented. Located at the very center of the city, it was taller than any of the trees or buildings which surrounded it. The stained-glass windows on all its sides were viewable from almost anywhere in the city, and when one was nearby, a multitude of extraordinary details became instantly visible on the thousands of stone blocks which constructed the church.

Inside was a gigantic sanctuary, highlighted only by a very large multi-octave organ at the very front and about fifty pews several feet wide facing it. Above the organ was the largest of the stained-glass windows depicting a scene of one of an idol ascending into the heavens with an amazed and once-doubtful audience beneath him. Directly below the window and in front of the organ was a small podium from which the pastor would give his weekly service, and directly in front of the podium was an aisle, dividing the pews down the very center of the church. The entire room was aglow with the glimmer of small candles, the only light at that time of day. And above all this was a gigantic mural, combining several scenes from scripture in an explosion of color.

First paying his respects to the church with a reverent gesture, Erik began walking down the aisle towards a confession booth, just to the right of the room. Which each step, he took in the atmosphere of the room which provided him with an unworldly comfort. He almost felt himself grow weak, as if dreading the upcoming experience.

_Be a man, Erik. Faith will be rewarded._

Before reaching the booth, Erik decided to stop at the front pew. He needed a time to think about his thoughts.

There he sat in silence for a few minutes. Then, he heard the sound of footsteps behind him. He turned around to see the silhouette of who he assumed was the man he came to see.

"Who goes there?" said a kind voice.

Erik stood up. "Father Mikhail, forgive me for the intrusion. It's Erik Romanov."

There was a light chuckle following the revealing of Erik's name, almost as if the chuckler half-expected this late night voice.

"You're always welcome in the house of the Lord, my child." The owner of this voice walked into the light of the room, revealing Father Mikhail Tarasov, a kindly old man with the personality and looks of a quintessential saint. His smile was as welcoming as the church and his voice was just as seductive. With a full head of gray hair, pale blue eyes and a slightly-wrinkled face, he seemed the absolute perfect candidate for a pastor. He was still in his night robe, as the visitation had come well within Father Mikhail's time of rest.

"Erik, I should have known only you would be lurking around at this hour," joked Father Mikhail. "What seems to be the trouble, my child?"

He hesitated to respond, not knowing whether or not if now was the time to confess. "Father, I can't sleep. Something has been on my conscience. I needed to come to you."

"Well, you couldn't have picked a better hour." Father Mikhail smiled back at Erik.

"I'm sorry for my timing. I could come back later –"

"Nonsense, my boy! There is never a bad time to consult the Lord. I just never expected anyone in this city to be listening when I said the doors to this church are open all hours of the night," he joked. "You're a diamond in the rough, my boy."

Father Mikhail's candor allowed Erik to relax a bit. He had a reverent-but-fun personality that made him such an effective pastor.

Erik took a deep breath, trying to formulate his thoughts into a coherent confession. He didn't really know how to start, but Father Mikhail was patient.

"Take your time, child," he said in his wise and gentle voice. "I have all the time in the world."

"Sorry," Erik said. "This is just difficult for me to say, even to myself."

Father Mikhail responded with a smile.

This was a routine for the two souls. It was a bit too often that Erik was at the church confessing something. He was what one might consider a religious hypochondriac, thinking every single one of his actions was worthy of punishment. He was a normal attendee of the church services and always valued what he learned from them. Erik wasn't a zealot, but he knew the importance of religion in the world.

Contrary to what one might think, his family wasn't very religious. Instead, he had just found refuge in religion, as an answer to some of the more perplexing questions and experiences in his life.

"Forgive me, for I have sinned."

Father Mikhail nodded politely, signaling him to continue with his confession.

"I have been troubled by a dilemma for quite some time, and I need to put my stress to rest. Father, I've made a decision."

"And what would that be, boy?"

Erik took another deep breath as he began to unearth the discontent in his heart.

"I'm going to start studying alchemy."

Father Mikhail was perfectly silent at first, which was not what Erik was hoping for, though he expected it. _This is what he normally does. He's just thinking his answer through … I hope._

Erik was being driven mad by the silence. He had waited so long for this moment, and all he was receiving was a moment of silence. But with each passing second, it seemed like Father Mikhail had something less promising to say. Finally, after several minutes of quiet, he opened his mouth to speak.

"Erik," said Father Mikhail in a less than promising tone, "I don't know what you want me to say."

This was not in any way the response for which Erik was hoping. All of the pastor's prior advice was immediately helpful and kind, but this was far from that.

"What … do you mean?"

Father Mikhail smiled back at him.

"My boy, don't take offense to my lack of a response." He sat down on the pew next to Erik. "I'm happy for you, that you've finally made a decision. You shouldn't care about what I think. You are the only person who matters in this matter."

Erik seemed a bit confused. This was not the spiritual counseling to which he was familiar.

"This is your life to do as you please. Who is anyone to tell you that alchemy is right or wrong for you? It is sinful only because those before you used in it vein. Do you understand what I mean?"

Erik was beginning to understand his pastor's point, and he began to relax somewhat. He nodded in agreement.

"You can revolutionize the world's understanding of alchemy, my boy, if you apply a sense of reason and a heart of goodness to your works." Father Mikhail patted him on the shoulder, to calm his senses. "Haven't I told you this before?"

"You're right, Father. I should've listened better –"

"Erik, you're far too hard on yourself. You've listened perfectly to everything I've ever told you. I can understand why you've been so weary. But just trust yourself, and trust your faith. It'll do you no wrong."

It was silent in the sanctuary for a moment while Erik let everything he had heard register in his mind and heart.

"A simple 'Good for you!' would've been easier to decipher," joked Erik.

Father Mikhail laughed. "You're a very smart boy, Erik. I trust you'll have no difficulty with your destiny. You shouldn't think I have all the answers, or that I should be the one to make all your decisions."

"It's just … I want to know I'm making the right decision."

"And you think I should just tell you it's right?" asked Father Mikhail. "I'm sorry, my boy, but religion doesn't work that way."

Erik laughed. "I wish it did. It'd save me a lot of stress." Realizing that Father Mikhail had made his point, Erik stood up from the pew. "Thank you, Father, you've done me a great service."

Father Mikhail responded by placing his hand on Erik's arm. "No, son, you've done yourself a great service," he said, standing up. "It takes a great bit of strength to make the decision you have made." He smiled at Erik and exited the pew. "Please never hesitate to see me, Erik. Even if I can't bring you absolute peace, it's a great privilege to help you."

Left with Father Mikhail's advice resonating freshly in his memory, Erik stood at the pew trying to visualize his future. It was impossible to tell what was going to happen to him, and with the ambiguity of alchemy now in his life, it was slightly terrifying.

"Erik, I do have a question for you," said Father Mikhail's voice, coming from the back of the sanctuary.

"Yes, Father?" responded Erik.

"What brought you to this decision?"

Erik was almost taken back by this inquisition. It seemed very out-of-place for Father Mikhail to ask such a personal question. It was surprising and odd to the unsuspecting Erik, but after a moment's consideration, he determined it was only fair to give some sort of explanation to the man who had spent countless hours counseling his woes.

"It was a year ago yesterday that it happened."

There was once again a moment of silence as Erik's voice echoed in the sanctuary. Father Mikhail said nothing as he walked away, back into his chambers.

Erik paid his respects to the night with a concluding gesture, and only after lighting a candle in prayer, he made his way towards the church exit.

_I've gotten what I needed from this visit. I know what I need to do, and I know that nothing can stop me. Leah, I'm going to make you proud, no matter what anyone down here says. I've never stopped thinking about that day –_

That was when he paused. Something had made him feel uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. He felt a shiver down his spine, and as he did, he took a lightning fast look around the room. Then, for a second, he looked down to his hands. He felt sullied for a moment. Suddenly, his mind flashed.

For a split second, his hands were covered in blood, and it felt as though he was holding a very familiar figure.

_Sister_.

Then, within an instant, the feeling vanished. He felt as though he wanted to cry. Then, Erik sprinted from the church, as if to get away from it – something he had never done in his life, and something he would be doing a lot more in the future.


	3. And that brings us back to do

"Mr. Sergei, I can't do this."

Not a sound came from Sergei Manakoff as he observed Erik from his chair, though it did seem like a slight amount of annoyance found its way onto his face. That scared Erik.

_He's going to kill me_.

Sitting there, feeling hopeless, Erik came to his senses and decided he had no choice but to tackle the challenge before him. He knew he needed to focus, and that making an excuse wouldn't make this any less painful. And besides, he was Sergei's property for the next hour.

Sergei coughed, in a seemingly urgent manner.

_Lord, help me_.

Erik saw that it was now or never. He was only wasting time.

Finally, after a considerable amount of inner struggle, Erik cracked his knuckles and placed them down before him. In an instant, they had disappeared into a fury on top of the black and white keys. The room around him was filled with the beautiful sounds of the piano.

Sergei had been working with Erik on a piano concerto for a couple months now, and Sergei planned for Erik to perform the piece in public next week with the Markovatsk National Orchestra – the most reputable of professional orchestras in the country. Erik was Sergei's star piano student, and he had taken great pride in the boy's talents.

Erik was working on the third movement of the concerto, a technically difficult part of the whole piece. It was the fastest of the movements, requiring Erik to utilize every mechanism in his hands and the utmost concentration. There were listless things about the piece which made it difficult, but Erik had nearly perfected it. _Nearly_.

There was one section of the movement which Erik had not yet played correctly, and it had been frustrating him for some time. Once he had that part down, Erik would be ready to play the piece publically. And that part was approaching quickly.

_Okay, Erik, you can do this. Focus. The sooner we do this, the better. You need to._

The music came out of the piano so naturally under his magic touch. He barely had to think about what was actually going on at the moment, it was just so fluid and expressive, and almost inhuman. It was heavenly – a beautiful boy playing beautiful music.

The obstacle was only a few bars away.

_No excuses_. _No turning back_.

It was so close.

_I can't let myself down_.

Mere seconds.

_Do it!_

Suddenly, he realized that he had not stopped when he was expecting. There was no error in his playing. Nothing had left him feeling disgusted in himself, no more disappointment or apprehension. There were no sour notes. Just music. The correct music. And the piece continued, and continued, and continued. Erik had finally overcome the challenging section in the concerto. And it left him feeling ethereal.

The remainder of the piece was even more spectacular. Clearly, Erik's happiness had overcome his playing and the style and sound took on a different and even more beautiful feeling. He felt unstoppable, and the result was wonderful. Finally, the piece concluded just as dramatically and quickly as it had begun.

Erik sat silently and undisturbed in front of the piano, his hands still in place of the final chord. He was breathing heavily, still in the awe of the moment. He couldn't believe that he conquered the difficult passage which had plagued him for so long. Then, bringing Erik back into reality, Sergei began to clap, slowly.

"Congratulations. You are ready. "  
He didn't turn around to look at his teacher yet. He was still entranced in the moment.

"Don't ever make excuses again."

That following statement sounded a little harsh compared to the prior commending remark, making Erik now reluctant to look at him. Sergei's method of encouragement for Erik was often harsh and difficult for a young person to process as positive, so Erik often found himself actually terrified of his teacher. Perhaps that is why he became so learned at the piano, out of fear for Sergei's lectures. Erik had come to understand this, but that still hadn't erased his apprehension or his susceptibility to his teacher's condemnations, like the one Erik was moments from experiencing.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Sergei –"

"Erik, don't you dare apologize. I'm sick of you trying to do so." He placed his hand on Erik's shoulder, causing him to look over his shoulder. "You should never feel sorry for anything you do, and you shouldn't be so scared to do something. That's absolutely stupid."

"Yes, sir."

"Musicians are not stupid. So don't do stupid things like making excuses."

"Yes, sir."

"All the greatest musicians have made mistakes at some points in their lives. And all the greatest musicians have encountered hardships. You are no exception, so don't think you are."

"Yes, sir."

"You have to go through the music – you have to go through life! – tackling each piece and every challenge without regret or remorse, otherwise you'll be setting yourself up for disaster. You're just going to end up confused and conflicted if you do this, and I don't want to see that happen to you. You are an exceptionally talented person, Erik.

"Thank you, sir."

"You aren't a stupid person, either."

"Thank you – "

Sergei swung around in front of Erik, cutting him off. "So don't make stupid excuses!"

Erik was completely silent as Sergei's words echoed in the small studio. He had understood his teacher's point, and he wouldn't forget it soon, especially with his big performance just around the corner. Sergei knew best.

"Forgive me for sounding harsh, Erik, but you needed to hear that. You've sat here, working on this piece for months, making silly excuses for the little errors you make. But that's so unnecessary! Are you aware how beautiful your playing just sounded? It was remarkable. I envy your abilities. I wish I was half the musician at my age." He patted Erik on the back, showing a definite mood change. Still, Erik bowed his head in humility at the piano, unresponsive, like an injured dog. "You're too polite, Erik."

"I won't make excuses anymore. I don't want to disappoint you."

Sergei chuckled. "Erik, if you are playing so beautifully out of fear for me, then I'm afraid I can't allow you to be my student anymore!"

Erik himself laughed a little, understanding what his teacher meant.

"Play only because you want to. Never be someone else's instrument," said Sergei, turning away from Erik. "And with that thought, I think we're done for today. I'll let you go a little early."

"Thank you, sir." Erik slid the chair away from the piano, standing up and breathing a sigh of relief.

"You've earned it, Erik. I'm incredibly proud of you," said Sergei, collecting his materials and heading for the studio door. "Stop by sometime later in the week after my normal lesson times, just to have a final run-through before next week. I'm sure you'll be fine, but it's best to be safe than sorry."

"Yes, sir."

"Please, let yourself out. I'll see you soon, Erik." Sergei closed the door behind him.

Erik collected his music, his metronome and his school books and prepared to put them in his book bag. As he did, he took a moment to look at one of his books – a book on alchemy. It wasn't actually one of his school books, because his school, being devoutly religious, condoned the study of alchemy. He had it with him at all times, though, constantly sneaking peaks between classes and hiding it under other books during classes, trying to learn as much as he could.

"Soon," he said aloud, placing it deep into his bag. With all his things secured, he made his way to the door.

When Erik walked outside of his piano teacher's house, he found his best friend, Jason Malkin, eagerly awaiting him on the sidewalk. He was standing there, waiting impatiently and kicking rocks and other objects around the sidewalk. He himself had just come from baseball practice, so he was dressed sloppily in a cap and a dirty old uniform, which barely fit his bustling physique, and on one of his arms he was carrying a bag of his equipment.

On top of this intimidating body defined very clearly through the tattered uniform sat a very kindly face, made complete by a cocky smile, a pair of deep blue eyes and a head of messy brown hair. His figure and looks had Jason constantly in complicated situations with women (though they were patient, knowing he'd make his way around to all of them), and outside of his physical ability and boyish good looks, he wasn't really a smart person.

"The piano genius is finally released from his prison! And early? That's almost unheard of!" Jason laughed and gave his friend a joking punch in the arm.

"Ouch!" Erik rubbed his arm, having felt some pain from the playful strike. He was a strong person himself, but Jason was a far more athletic person and didn't understand his own strength. "If you keep that up, I won't have limbs left to play a piano."

"Ah, quit being such a baby," said Jason, as they began to walk down the sidewalk. "I could never hurt you."

"So you think," laughed Erik. "But when I tell Sergei I can play because you broke my arm, I'm sending him after you. I'm pretty sure he'd kill you."

Jason scoffed, rolling up his sleeves and flexing both of his biceps in a he-man fashion. "That's only if he even lands a punch!"

"You're one-of-a-kind," said Erik, shaking his head. "If only you had a brain –"

"Hey!" yelled Jason. "You know how it is, man. You solve your problems with that freak of a brain you have –"

"And you solve yours with hockey sticks and baseball bats."

"Hell, yes!" laughed Jason. "And that's why you need to help me study, bud." He wrapped his arm around Erik in a mockingly endearing manner. "I love you, man!"

"You love my intelligence, Jason –"

"Dude, don't even say that! I've been you're best friend since before you became a freakin' piano virtue and before you became the smartest person in our school."  
Erik laughed. "And I've been your friend since before you became a brainless, muscle-armed brute. And by the way, the term is piano 'virtuoso', not virtue, and I'm hardly the former."

"Like hell you ain't! Bud, in the future, we're both gonna be famous, the best of our trades. And I'll always be sure to thank you for makin' me smart." He punched Erik again.

"And I'll dedicate a piece or two to you," said Erik, as he rubbed his arm, "or maybe I'll just mention you in my bio."

Erik Romanov and Jason Malkin were probably the most unlikely pairing for best friends in their school. Jason was the most popular person and the star athlete of the school. He was brainless, but harmless, and incredibly friendly, and had mountains of people wanting to befriend him (in various ways, _especially_ with women). Meanwhile, Erik was popular for another reason – his intelligence and musical ability. It was most likely that he'd graduate at the top of the class and his musicality had encouraged a few murmurs, but compared to Jason, he wasn't what the school found as "amazing". He was quiet and polite and kept to himself, though he was sociable when he needed to be and he did have friends. However, Erik himself was also a star athlete – a swimmer – but his humility and tendency to be quiet about everything sometimes made people forget how good he was. He actually had a few gold medals sitting in his room. Still, despite the unlikelihood, Jason and Erik managed to hold and maintain a strong and incomparable friendship. And no one questioned it, they just accepted it.

"By the way, when's your concert thing again? I wanna make sure I free up my schedule, and I need to get a ticket."

"It's next Wednesday. And don't worry about a ticket, I can get you one for free," offered Erik.

"No, don't worry about that. You're worth wasting some money on!" Jason put his hand on Erik's head and messed up his hair a little. "By the way, I think I'm bringing someone?"

"Bring whoever you want, I won't mind."

"It's Sarah Ivanov."

Erik gave his friend an awkward glare.

"Oh, I get it. Let me seduce her with my musical talents, weaken her a bit, and then you sweep her away and take her back to your place."

Jason roared with laughter. "Dude, that's not even close! I was talking to her the other day, y'know, working my charm, and she seems pretty interested in this music stuff. She plays the violin, and I guess that's like the piano."

"Not really, but nice try."

"Hey, I was just trying to talk to her, dude! And you know how she's always like an awkward puppy around you. You're in all her classes, and you guys talk sometimes, and I think she wants to be your friend or something. I think she likes ya, bud. She seems really interested in what you do."

"I doubt it," said Erik, but he still blushed. "You can bring her, though."

"Dude, you should really try talking to her for real sometime. She's a pretty cool girl."

"Maybe later. Right now, piano and school are the only things I need stressing me out. And tutoring you is the only other extracurricular activity I can allow myself."

They were nearing Erik's house, which was their usual parting point, provided they didn't decide to go to each other's homes for some other reason.

"Speaking of making me smart, when do ya want me over tonight? I need help with history." He paused. "And calculus." He paused again. "And physics –"

"Why don't you just bring all your books, and we'll decide from there," said Erik, chuckling. "Have you ever tried studying on your own? I'm just curious."

Jason snorted. "Erik, you know I can't do that. Every time I look at a book, I just think about how much better a sport is."

Erik smiled. "Be over at the usual time. If you want, you could stop over for dinner," he said, "but please don't come all dirty like that. You know how my Dad is –"

There was a sound from behind Erik. It was the sound of a book hitting the ground – one from Erik's bag.

"I'll get that, bud." Jason was on the book in a second. His reflexes were pretty fast. "I think there's a whole in your bag …"

He was silent as he looked at the book, and Erik quickly realized what book it is.

"What's 'alchemy'?" Jason looked dumbfounded as he analyzed the book.

"Uh, it's noth–"

"Oh, this is one of your advanced classes. I get it. They're so hard I've never even heard of it!"

"Yeah, that's it," said Erik, going along with his friend's wrong conclusion. "It's a hard one. Sometimes it stumps me."

"A class that stumps you? Now I've heard everything." Jason lifted his cap and scratched his head, and a bit of dirt fell to the ground. "Well, I guess I'd best go home and take care of this. Seeya in a bit, bud."

As Jason ran down the sidewalk to his house a couple blocks away, Erik stood there and reflected on the moment. He was thankful Jason was naïve enough to make such a conclusion; it saved Erik a lot of stress. He was always worried about people finding out about his alchemy. He wasn't really sure why he'd worry. Erik just felt that if anyone found out about his study of alchemy, only bad things would happen.

"Thank the Lord, you're stupid, Jason."


	4. Finest tune I know is Sarah Brown Eyes

"Dude, I hope you don't mind that I asked Sarah to sit with us."  
"Here at lunch? Why would I mind?" asked Erik.

Jason put his books down at the table while pulling out a seat. "I don't know, some people just get weird about that stuff –"

"Listen, you need to stop implying that there's something between us. I barely know her, and the more you press this romantic stuff on me, the more difficulty I'll have treating her like a normal person," said Erik as he sat down at the table. "Besides, you'll probably just end up dating her like you do every girl in this school."

Jason laughed. "Believe me, dude, none of that stuff is real. I'm not ready for serious stuff with girls."

"Or maybe they're just not ready for you."

"How funny," said Jason bemusedly. "Y'know, you should take her out tonight or something."

"Can't do," said Erik. "I have to practice my concerto a little more, just to be safe. And I promised Mr. Sergei I'd meet with him for a little. I also wanted to stop by the church."

"Church?" laughed Jason. "I can't remember the last time I've gone to one of old Mikhail's services. And haven't you gotten enough of your piano teacher this week?"

"It would be lovely to just dance through life like you do, Jason, not worrying about anything or thinking ahead," joked Erik.

"I worry plenty, dude! Why do you think I study so much with you?" retorted Jason.

"Speaking of which, that's another reason I don't have time for anything else tonight. I have to help study like I always."

Jason slapped his friend hardly on the back, once again forgetting his strength. "Alright, ya got a point there, bud. But you should seriously consider doing _something_ with her. I'm telling you, she's mad about you. And hey, here she comes right now! I'll go get your lunch, so the two of you can do what you need to do!"

Erik tried to object, but Jason was gone, already giving high fives and jeering at people on his way to the food line before he could speak up. Erik slapped his hands over his eyes in frustration. "Why?"

"Why what?" asked a very polite voice.

He quickly removed his hand from his face, looking directly up and to his side, towards the source of the voice – a brown-eyed, brown-haired, beautiful girl. "Oh, Sarah. Hi."

Sarah Ivanov smiled at him. "Hi, Erik. Do you mind if I sit with you today? Your friend Jason told me I could, but if you –"

"No, please," said Erik, pulling out a chair. "Have a seat."

"Thank you," she said kindly, taking a seat and placing her tray on the table. "How are you today, Erik?"

"I'm quite well, I guess. Can't complain. And yourself?"

"I'm good, too." She noticed he didn't have any food yet. "Oh, am I keeping you from getting food? You don't have to sit here and talk to me –"

"No, that's not it at all," said Erik quickly. "Jason is getting my food for me. I guess he's paying me back for all the help I've given him with school."

Sarah laughed. "Oh my, really? He seems like a bright boy. In my calculus class today, he seemed to know his material quite well."

"Really?" said Erik, both surprised and enthusiastic. "I guess that means my hard work is actually doing something!"

"He's lucky to have such a smart friend, I guess," complimented Sarah. "I could use some help with that class, actually. I was considering asking him for help, but since you're the man behind the scenes I guess it would be more appropriate to ask you? If you wouldn't mind?"

Erik shrugged. He didn't really know what to say.

"Oh goodness, I'm sorry! We barely talk and here I am trying to use you for study material!"

Noticing she was panicking, Erik gave her a nice pat on the back to calm down. "No, that's not it all. I'd be glad to help you, I just don't know when I'd have the time. I'm just bogged down by my piano studies at the moment, so even helping Jason has been difficult to do."

"I forgot about that!" she said. "Your performance – that's very soon, yes?"

"Yes, it's in a couple of days." That reminded him that he had the tickets in his bag, ready to give them to Jason. "Speaking of which, I have the tickets right now. I can give you yours, if you want it?"

Sarah lit up. "Oh, yes, please!"

Erik smiled at her, delighted by her enthusiasm for his music. As he fished the tickets from his book bag, he decided he'd try talking about something other than himself. "So, you like piano music? And music in general?"  
She nodded happily. "Absolutely! I'm not entirely familiar with what it is you're performing, but I can still enjoy music as it is. I think it's amazing how accomplished you are!"

Erik blushed when she said this. "Please, don't put me on a pedestal. I'm nothing special. I'm not even certain I enjoy music that much. It's more of a hobby."

"Oh, please don't say that," Sarah said, somewhat disappointed. "I'd like for once in my life to just share my musical enthusiasm with someone."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way," said Erik. "It does make me happy that I can play, but it was never my choice to do so. My father forced me to start when I was younger, so I just grew up playing as if it were an inevitable aspect of my life. It's fun."

Sarah nodded. "I understand what you mean, don't worry. Sometimes, music isn't so fun for me."

"You play the violin, correct? Tell me about that," said Erik.

She smiled, bashfully. "Oh, I'm nothing special. I try my best, but I've never done anything like you have. I mean, it's probably what I'll be doing for the rest of my life, but I'll probably just blend in as time goes on."

Erik shook his head. "I've been around pianos for far too long. I'd listen to you play anytime."

"You're too kind, Erik –"

"I hope you like spaghetti!" hollered Jason's obnoxious voice from behind them. "I got you lot's of it, dude!"

"Uh, thank you, Jason," said Erik, quickly taking his food from him.

The three of them sat and ate their lunches, casually talking and having fun. Jason would often make a joke or two, sometimes resulting in laughter and others resulting in groans. It was a surprisingly comfortable time for all of them. Erik did feel awkward around Sarah, especially with Jason putting romantic nonsense into his head, but with Jason acting as a third wheel, the situation was considerably lightened.

After lunch, they split off and went to their respective classes, but only after agreeing to meet after school and walk home together. Jason had insisted, and no one objected.

Jason had to run home halfway through the walk, realizing he was late to do something his parents requested of him. Erik and Sarah were left alone for the remainder, left to continue their conversation from lunchtime.

"So, would you really listen to me play sometime?" she asked him.

Caught off guard, he fumbled a bit with his response. "Uh, huh? Oh, you mean about before?"

She smiled at him and shook her head politely.

"Well, yes, if you'd really want me to," he said, hesitantly. "I guess I could even accompany you, if it ever came to that. Anything to make you happy."

There was an awkward silence after that unintentionally but overly-endearing statement. He hadn't realized he'd said it. It was like another part of him was speaking. But Sarah was looking at him, slightly in surprise but mostly in admiration.

_What are you saying? You barely know this girl_.

"Uh, I mean, it's nice when people are happy, right?" he said, trying to correct what he said before.

That had wiped the cheer right off her face.

_You idiot_.

"Oh, yeah. Sure."

Realizing he'd turned her off, he struggled to repair what he'd done. At that moment, he noticed the case she'd been holding in her right hand for the whole walk. It was an oddly-shaped case, and he could only guess what was in it.

"Hey, wait. Is that your violin, right there?"

"Yes, it is. Haven't you noticed it?"

He stopped walking, bringing her to a halt. "I didn't see it while we were walking. I was caught up in all the conversation." He noticed there was a bench along the sidewalk, a few feet from where they had stopped. "Y'know, I could listen now, if you wanted to?"

Sarah didn't say anything to him. She was thrown off by the request. "Right here? On the sidewalk?"

"Why not? It'll help you conquer your fear of stage fright."

She stood there, pondering. Finally, she walked over to the bench and put her books down. "Alright. If you insist, Erik!" Sarah was beaming as she placed the case on the bench. She opened it and removed the violin, frantically plucking the strings and adjusting the pegs, to make sure it was tuned. "Oh, the bow!" she said, grabbing it from the case.

It was an interesting spectacle for Erik to witness. It was almost as if Erik had just asked Sarah to marry him. She was practically tripping over herself as she moved about the bench, constantly remembering checkups to perform on the instrument. She really wanted to play for Erik. In the meantime, he took a seat on the part of the bench not occupied by chaos.

After a couple of minutes, she was finally ready to play for him. She took a proud stance on the sidewalk and held the violin to her neck. Sarah looked so pretty standing there on that warm spring day, her little red dress swaying in the breeze. Erik felt happy watching her.

"This is a little piece which I wrote myself," she said happily. "I haven't named it yet, but maybe with a little inspiration –"

Just as she said that, a child on a bike road by her quickly, nearly hitting her. The child just laughed as he rode by, telling her to watch where she was standing, but she was thrown off her center, causing her to trip while holding the violin.

"No!" she screamed, as if in pain.

Erik thought she was hurt, but as he helped her up, he quickly saw what had caused her to scream. The violin was crushed beneath her from the fall, and he could see that it was far beyond repair. When he had gotten her to her feet, she just stood there, lifelessly looking down at the destroyed instrument. It was clear she wanted to cry, but something in her wasn't letting it happen. It truly looked like someone as torturing her and that she was in a great amount of pain.

"S-Sarah," stuttered Erik, "I'm sorry."

She didn't respond immediately. "Oh, yeah."

They both stood there for a while, looking at the violin. Erik didn't say anything because he didn't know what to say, and Sarah didn't say anything because she didn't want to. Minutes passed without a word or a single muscle moved.

Suddenly, Erik had an idea. "Wait!" he shouted, darting to his book bag. He returned with a piece of chalk and showed it to her eagerly, but her expression was unchanging. "I can fix your violin."

_I hope_.

She flinched. "What?"

He knelt to the ground and prepared to draw a circle with the chalk, but not before some final thoughts passed through his head.

_Once she sees this, things will never be the same. Here's to hoping I can trust her not to tell. And to hoping I actually help._

Sarah watched as he quickly drew a circle around the broken violin, decorating it with complicated symbols and other embellishments. There were words all around the circle, written in a language she didn't understand. She didn't understand anything that he was doing, and it was rather confusing. "Erik, whatever you're doing, you can stop."

"There. Finished," he said proudly, wiping his hands in the process. "Could you step back, please?"

She looked at him in awe, then backed up cautiously. "I really don't know what you're trying to do –"

Before she could finish, he clapped his hands together and pressed them to the circle. In a moment, a strange light began emanating from the circle and a strange noise was being produced. It looked like the violin was disintegrating. Finally, the light subsided and it seemed that the strange process was done. Erik slowly stood up, cradling something in his hands which almost brought Sarah to tears.

"M-my… my violin!" she stuttered, gently taking it from him, and then giving him a powerful hug. "Erik Romanov, you're my hero!"

He laughed. "Don't worry about it. I wasn't able to reconstruct the strings because I wasn't able to tell how tight they were from looking. I assume you would rather do that on your own rather than me screwing it up."

"Of course, of course! Erik, thank you so much!" Sarah began to laugh and cry at the same time.

He smiled at her. "I just did what I knew how to do. And I guess it's my fault for requesting you play here of all places."

"Not at all! This isn't your fault in the least bit," she said, calming down a bit. "But how on earth did you just do that?"

_Oh, God. This is what I was worried about._

He shifted a little, thinking of a way to respond. "First, why don't you put your violin away? Let's get that safe before anymore reckless children come looking to destroy it."

Sarah nodded, darting to her case and placing the violin inside. "Would you like to walk and talk at the same time? It's getting a little late and I should be home soon."

"Of course," agreed Erik.

They were walking for a little bit before he had to explain himself. Sarah was still a bit ecstatic about what Erik had just done, and she wanted to make sure she praised him more than was necessary. "So," she said finally, "could you tell me what just happened?"

Erik sighed.

_Here we go._

"Well, there's no other way for me to describe it to you than to flat out tell you," he said. "But promise me, Sarah, that you won't tell anyone about that."

She nodded.

Erik paused, taking a breath. "What I just did was an act of alchemy."

"Alchemy?"

"Yes, alchemy," he said.

"You could get in trouble for that, couldn't you? That's against our religion –"

"I know, Sarah. I know," he said. "But you have to trust me in that I know what I'm doing. I'm not doing this to anger anyone."

Sarah was quiet for a moment as she thought about it. "So that's what alchemy is? I never really understood it. I was just always told to stay away from it."

"Well, I'm doing what I need to. And I want to help people as best as I can."

"I won't question you, Erik. Everyone is free to live how they want," she said kindly. "What was that circle you drew on the ground, though?"

"That's a transmutation circle," he said, holding out the piece of chalk which was still in his grasp. "It's how alchemists confine the process, a way of targeting things. And it's necessary for all alchemy, too. We can't just walk around, slapping our hands on anything we want and at any time we want. That would be chaotic and dangerous. Alchemy has limits, just like any math or science, and this is one of them."

Sarah seemed intrigued. "So, what exactly goes on in alchemy? What does it do?"

"People always say alchemy is about making something extravagant from absolutely nothing, but that's not true," he explained. "Alchemy is all about taking one substance and turning it into another substance of equal value. It's about manipulating the elements into a desired result, but it has to be a sensible manipulation. For example, just now, I couldn't have turned your violin into a cello. They're two different sizes and require different amounts of materials, that's just common sense. I can only do what is scientifically possible."

"I get it," she said. "You're saying that you can't get the materials for a two-story building and then expect to build a ten-story building. That makes sense."

"Precisely," said Erik.

Sarah laughed. "Erik, you're full of surprises and random talents. You say that alchemy is all about limits, and yet, it doesn't appear you have any yourself."

"Don't worry, I'm not inhuman," he said. "Regardless of what Jason tells you, I'm a normal human being."

"Oh goodness, well he certainly isn't a normal human being," she said jokingly.

"Not at all."

"Oh my, this was a fun walk, Erik. I had a good time," she said, realizing the point in their walk where they must diverge. "Thanks for helping me back there in my time of crisis."

"Don't mention it," he said. "You should walk with us more often."

"Of course." Sarah smiled at him, giving him a quick hug. "Take care!"

"You too," Erik said.

They waved good-bye to each other and set off towards their houses, both feeling happy and light from their walk. It was definitely the start of something, and the two could sense it inside them, though they didn't really know how to deal with it.

A few steps later, Erik realized something. _I didn't hear her play_.

"Sarah!" he called, turning around quickly. But she was already gone from sight. He stood there for a second, just making sure she was gone, and then he continued on his own path back to his house.

Unfortunately, Erik would never hear Sarah play the violin.


End file.
